


Where The Boys Are - ABANDONED

by missdibley



Series: A Girl For All Seasons [3]
Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, Michael Fassbender - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Adultery, Cheating, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flirting, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3729730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Esme's report of her Valentine's Day adventures makes its way back to Chicago and her best friend Ann, who decides to visit Esme in London to bring her back to her senses and possibly bring her home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Palm Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I swear it's all true. All of it. The time travel, the angels, and the sex. OMG GIRL THE SEX."

> From: Esme Grey  
>  To: Ann Ingwer  
>  Subject: Sooooooooooo
> 
> Yo lady:
> 
> Sorry I haven't been in touch lately. I got your email about going to [Lost Lake](http://www.lostlaketiki.com/) for my birthday. Any chance I can take a raincheck?
> 
> From Ann Ingwer  
>  To: Esme Grey  
>  Subject: re: Sooooooooooo
> 
> No probs. Just want to make sure we celebrate your birthday in the manner to which we have become accustomed, meaning we spend more on drinks than we do on dinner, and Aaron picks up the tab. HA HA HA. My husband spoils me. And you. He accepts it.
> 
> Are you coming to us for Easter? Posy's been missing her favorite auntie. And I think I bought too many [butter lambs](https://www.facebook.com/pages/Danish-Maid-Butter/275493237001) for Easter dinner so you may take home one (or three) as a party favor. They were on sale at Mariano's.
> 
> xo - A
> 
> From Esme Grey  
>  To: Ann Ingwer  
>  Subject: re: re: Sooooooooooo
> 
> I wish I could come to you guys for Easter, especially since I know your mother will make sure we all have at least two Cadbury's creme eggs each.
> 
> But, I have a confession to make.
> 
> I know I haven't been around in ages, and we haven't hung out since we went to [Dusek's](http://dusekschicago.com/) for your birthday back in Feb. The reason is... I've actually been out of town since Valentine's Day.
> 
> The reason I've been away is I met somebody. His name is Tom. We're in love. And um, here's something I wrote about how it all went down. I swear it's all true. All of it. The time travel, the angels, and the sex. OMG GIRL THE SEX.
> 
> Speaking of which, Tom needs me to help him with something in the bedroom. I think that means he wants to shag. I love these quaint English turns of phrase.
> 
> Read it, let me know what you think?
> 
> Please don't be mad. I love you so much.
> 
> xo - E

* * *

8am, London.

I had emailed with Ann last night around 2am my time. She still hadn't written back, and I was starting to get nervous.

Tom had tickled me when he got up to get ready for his morning run. Even tried to get me to go with him, silly man.

"So not only do you torture me out of a delicious sleep..." I propped myself up in bed, leaning back on my elbows so I could watch him get dressed.

Tom stopped to look at me skeptically, a sock in each hand.

Say what you will, but nobody looks cool standing naked, holding a sock in each hand. Not even Tom Hiddleston.

"I hardly think tickling is torture."

I snorted.

"You had me laughing so hard I think I may have cramped something." I gave my right boob a squeeze and winked at him.

"Well, maybe if you were in better shape..."

"WATCH IT, BUDDY."

I got back under the covers to lie on my back and stew, willing Tom to go away before I pelted him with pillows.

"You have to admit, it's not every woman who subsists on a steady diet of sardines and banoffee pie."

"It's not every man who keeps nothing but sardines and banoffee pie in his kitchen." A lame comeback, but I was too upset to think of anything cleverer than that.

"Petal, I'm sorry." I could hear Tom's voice next to my head.

"Go 'way."

"Petal, look at me." Tom pleaded.

I flipped the covers down, exposing only the top of my head up to my nose, so I could glare at him.

Tom's stood next to me, blue eyes full of apology. Well, at least he appeared contrite.

"Oh don't you try that puppy dog eyes bullshit on me!"

Tom pouted as well as his thin (but very sweet) lips would let him. He crouched down next to me, and stuck a sock on each of his ears.

"Arf?"

As soon as I started laughing Tom lay down on top of me, on the covers, so I could bear his weight but not feel his skin against my naked body. I opened my legs slightly, rolled my hips a little, reveling in the groans that came from his throat.

"How about I bring back something from the market after my run? Eggs? Bacon? Beans? Everything so I can make you a full English?" Tom kissed the tip of my nose.

"Wait, how am I supposed to get in better shape if you're going to feed me a full English breakfast?" I pulled the socks off so I could stroke his ears.

"Oh, you see, I have a cunning plan."

"Oh, do you now?" I smirked. "Please, by all means, enlighten me."

"Well, first step is we cook the breakfast."

"Okay." I shifted so Tom could roll off me. I turned towards him, placed a hand on his chest, kicking off the covers so I was bare. I shivered a little as the cool morning air hit my body.

"Then, we eat the breakfast." Tom licked his lips at the thought.

"Nice, very nice." I paused. "Is that all?"

"No. For our final act, we shag..."

"Excuse me?"

"We FUCK until we've burned all the calories off." Tom reached over, grabbing at me until I got on him and straddled him. He massaged my ass from above while from below he ground his dick into me.

"Oh my, Thomas!" I closed my eyes, rolling my hips, moaning as I felt Tom's cock slowly rub against my sopping wet cunt.

"Esme... my run..." Tom groaned.

"Tom," I rasped. "Fuck. Your. Run."

I took Tom's cock in my hand. It was slick from my juices, which made it easier to stroke him to a full erection. I positioned him at my entrance, hovering so slightly, waiting for him to take over.

"Esme," Tom moaned as he pushed up into me. I began a slow bounce, enjoying the feeling of him filling me, not caring about the soreness I felt in my core from the sex we had had just six hours ago, and six hours before that, and so on. All the touching and the groping and the licking and the kissing and the fucking we'd been doing pretty much non-stop since we had met for the first time six weeks ago.

I lowered myself onto Tom, lying on his chest while he continued to pump into me. I sucked a nipple between my lips, nipping and licking it slowly, ignoring the quickening pace of his hips.

"Tom," I breathed. "You taste especially delicious today."

Tom could only grunt in response.

I smiled, and closed my eyes. I slid a hand between us, finding my swollen clit so I could rub it.

The harder Tom thrust, the harder I rubbed. I clenched around Tom's cock, chuckling when he groaned.

"Fuck, Esme, when you do that..." Tom didn't bother finishing his thought. How could he?

"Less talking, more fucking, please." I sang softly.

"Right." Tom pushed me off, then rolled me so I was facedown on the bed. He drew my hips up, keeping my legs together so my swollen pussy felt even tighter between my thighs.

"Hey!" I knew what was coming but I still felt the need to protest.

Tom replied by slamming his cock into my cunt, grunting as he drove into me, gripping my hips so tightly I knew there would be bruises for days.

"You little witch. If you don't take this hard cock without another word, I'm going to gag you with your knickers."

"Oh my god, that was so hot, I actually drooled." I couldn't help it. My brain was saying "Just be quiet and let him keep going" while my cunt, tits, and mouth were all like "Boy I'd like to see you try!"

Tom released my hips, yanking me by my hair so I was nearly upright. He quickly shoved a wad of cotton, a pair of panties which still smelled like my cunt after last night when he went down on me and hadn't pulled them off, merely moved the strip to the side.

My eyes rolled back in my head as Tom gently let me back down. I could feel his hands go back to holding my hips, pulling them back towards him as he filled me and fucked me, punishing my tight, swollen cunt with his rock hard dick. He didn't stop me when I stuck a hand between my legs, pinching and teasing my clit until I tightened my walls around him again.

"Oh shit. Babe, just stay tight. Keep it tight for daddy. Oh god. Shit, that's so good. I love your pussy so much. You're such a good girl. Just like that. Unf." Tom's words were the sweetest and the filthiest praise I could ever hope for. He spanked my ass a few times, yelling my name when I'd clench my pussy even tighter in response.

Mouth full, I could only squeak and hum. I felt safe and sexy and happy. Definitely perverted (he'd never referred to himself as Daddy before). But mainly I felt safe, at home, in this bed, with this man.

When my orgasm came, moments after I could feel Tom climax inside of me, anticipate the slow leak of his seed and my juices christening my inner thighs. My eyes were open but unfocused. Instead of the usual stars and flashes of light, I stared at the morning light that slowly came in through the windows. I could make out the silhouette of tree branches in the back garden, hear a few birds twittering at each other.

I moaned quietly as Tom jerked a few more times inside me, rolling our hips together as we both came back from the edge. He pulled out, then carefully lay me on my back. He cradled my head under one arm, while the other danced down my body. He tweaked my nipples, cupped my breasts, wiggled a finger in my navel. He carefully touched my still raw clit, gently swirling the finger tip around it before massaging my labia. He brought his hand up to his mouth so he could suck the finger clean.

"Petal..."

"Hush," I breathed. I turned to him.

"That was great," I whispered. "But you still owe me breakfast." Pause. "Daddy."

Tom chuckled, then kissed my ear.

"You like that?"

"Yeah. That was new." I looked at his face. It was sweaty, and his nostrils flared a little as he continued to breathe deeply. "So is that what I'm calling you? Me Petal, you Daddy?"

"Dunno. Hadn't thought of it." Tom's mouth twisted while he considered. "Do you want to call me that?"

"Yeah, that could work. It was that or Sardine."

I laughed when he began to tickle my stomach. Before his hands could make their way to a more sensitive spot like my inner thighs, I heard my phone chirping.

Who would want to FaceTime at this time of the morning?

I grabbed my phone off the nightstand, holding it close so I could make out the caller.

It was Ann. I swiped to take the call.

"Ann! I'm so happy it's you!"

"Hey Esme." Ann's voice sounded tight. She looked tired. Her red curls hung limply around her face and her pale blue eyes, always dilated, appeared hollow. The glowing screen of her iPad washed her out, flattening her creamy, freckly complexion.

I could tell she was sitting in her basement, which is where she went when she wanted to hide from her husband and daughter.

She'd been doing that a lot.

"How are you? Did you read my email?"

"Yes." Ann sounded tense, tight. Not good.

Oh.

I looked at Tom who raised his eyebrows at me. I shrugged, then shooed him away from the bed. He went into the bathroom where I could hear the shower turn on.

"Well, what did you think? Did you have any questions?" I tried to sound breezy.

"Yeah. Can you pick me up at the airport tomorrow morning?"

"Um, what? Which airport? Did you read my email?"

"Yeah, I did. I read the, um, story too."

"What did you think?"

Ann sighed loudly.

"So can you do it? Pick me up at Heathrow tomorrow? I'll send you the info as soon as I book a flight."

"You're coming here! That's awesome. Is it for my birthday? Is this my present?" I sat up, excited.

"Something like that." Ann paused, then shook her head.

"Esme, I'm coming over there to bring you back to Chicago. Take you home."


	2. The Lady in 2A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Did she and Tom really fall in love in a matter of hours? Did they really go back in time to the LCB and fuck in a room full of people including her 22 year old self? Would this Sophie Hunter really let her then fiance, now husband, fuck my best friend at the Music Box where I take my child ever year for the Christmas double feature of It's A Wonderful Life and White Christmas? Was it just me or did Esme's story read like the worst romance novel ever?"

"What am I going to do in London with Aunt Esme, Posy?"

Posy lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, and thought about the question I just put to her.

"You're gonna eat salad and olives and foods that are yucky. You're gonna talk to other grown-ups. You're gonna drink mommy juice!"

Note to self: keep boxed wine from Target in less conspicuous location in kitchen. Or just move it to the basement along with my art supplies.

"What else?" I leaned over to tickle my daughter's bare feet, pausing to laugh with her when she squealed. As she continued to talk, I continued to pack my suitcase.

A few blouses from the cute shop in Forest Park. Two non-sexy bras, one beige and the other a color I like to call "pasty White lady" (which I can say because I am a pasty White lady). Skinny jeans that I paid too much money for at regular Nordstrom (instead of Nordstrom Rack), flared jeans from college that Esme swears are fashionable again and somehow I still fit into. Chunky heeled ankle boots that Aaron says are too loud when I wear them in the house proper so I wear them in the basement when I am pissed off. When I wasn't looking, Posy threw in the gold Louboutin sandals Esme bought me when we turned 30 because my daughter thinks I'm off to see her Auntie Esme and go to grown-up parties. I've never worn them. I still think about selling them on Ebay to pay for Posy's summer camp.

But there will be no grown-up parties in London for Mama or Aunt Esme. There will just be me finding Esme, her explaining the insane story she sent me, and the two of us flying back to Chicago like this never happened.

Maybe I'll make an appointment for her with my shrink.

I had to look up the men she mentioned in her story, as I don't have time to watch movies that aren't about cartoon princesses or intrepid child explorers. All of these "angels" as Esme described them were handsome, all of them were famous. Did she and Tom really fall in love in a matter of hours? Did they really go back in time to the LCB and fuck in a room full of people including her 22 year old self? Would this Sophie Hunter really let her then fiance, now husband, fuck my best friend at the Music Box where I take my child ever year for the Christmas double feature of  _It's A Wonderful Life_ and  _White Christmas_? Was it just me or did Esme's story read like the worst romance novel ever?

Okay, more like the hottest romance novel ever. I admit to pressing my thighs together, avoiding the tight wet feeling in my core while I read her filthy words. None of these guys are physically my type but I would not throw Michael Fassbender off a pool table for eating crackers, is what I'm saying.

It was 8am when I finished packing. 10 hours to go until Aaron drops me at the airport, 12 and a half hours until my flight takes off, and 20 hours until I see Esme in London and ask her what the everloving fuck is going the fuck on.

* * *

"Aaron, don't forget, my mother can pick Posy up from school as long as you take her in the mornings."

I was digging through my purse, looking for my passport while I muttered instructions to Aaron, who was pulling my suitcase out of the backseat of the car.

"Of course, honey." Aaron cooed to me.

He helped Posy hop out so they could kiss and hug me on the curb.

Posy took her place between our legs while I hugged my husband goodbye. I took a step back, and grabbed my case. Posy held onto my legs and stared up at me with her father's huge, almost dopey eyes.

"Mama," she whispered. "Will you miss me?"

I knelt down to her eye level and grabbed her, burying my face in her blonde ringlets.

"'Course I will. Be good for Gamma, okay?"

"Yes, Mama. I'll look after Daddy, too."

"Of course you will." I squeezed her, taking in the smell of her neck and her hair, ignoring the whiff of orange soda coming from cheek.

When did she get orange soda?

"Aaron, make sure she goes straight to bed when you get home? No stopping at The Brown Cow, okay?"

"Oooh, Brown Cow! Brown Cow!" Posy began to dance at the mention of her favorite ice cream parlor.

I cursed myself for bringing it up.

"Well," Aaron drawled. "I wasn't going to but now if I don't I'm going to look like the jerk who didn't give his baby ice cream."

I sighed.

"Do what you want."

"Call us when you land?"

"It'll be after 2 in the morning, babe."

"Well, leave a message, we can listen to it over breakfast."

I nodded, gave them each another hug and a kiss, then walked into terminal 5 to check in.

I had used up a bunch of miles for the flight, miles I was saving for a family trip to Orlando. The check-in kiosk told me to proceed to an agent to check in. I hoped this didn't mean there was a problem.

Turns out there was not. After I handed over my passport to the agent at the desk, she ripped up the card the kiosk had given me.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Ingwer, but there was a change with your reservation."

"Oh. Am I no longer on this flight?" I could feel my passive-aggressiveness rising in me.

"Oh no, apologies for the confusion, ma'am! It seems the miles used to pay for your reservation were credited back to your account. Your ticket has been upgraded and paid for by a..." she tapped a few more keys, squinted at the screen. "A Ms. Esme Grey. There's even a note." She paused, then whispered. "It says 'Surprise! A first-class seat for a first-class lady. xo - E.'"

"Figures," I muttered. "That would be my best friend who I'm going to visit."

The agent nodded, then handed me back my passport and a new boarding pass with my new seat number - 2A. My old seat number had been 48K. 2A sounded like a different plane entirely.

"That sounds like a very generous friend you have there."

"Tell me about it." I guess I didn't sound as ecstatic as someone who'd just been upgraded to first as the gate agent raised an eyebrow at me. "Oh, no, it's fine. Just, um, nervous about the flight."

"No need to be nervous. All you need to do is relax and enjoy the experience." The agent leaned in, then whispered, "And a pre-departure champagne probably wouldn't hurt, either." She winked, and sent me on my way.

I was too chicken shit to check out the first class lounge, not knowing if I could hang with the rich and powerful. Also, images of Esme and Tom fucking all over it popped up in my head as I walked past, so I proceeded immediately to the Frontera Fresco where I treated myself to some chips and guac and a margarita.

Okay, maybe more like two margaritas.

When it came time to board, I wasn't paying attention so I didn't get to get to board first along with the rest of the swells. I was practically last, surprising the attendant who glanced at my card and gently, carefully showed me to seat 2A. My seat which they actually called a suite because it was its own contained pod. I could ring an attendant to make up my seat into a flat bed after she'd fed me steak and sushi and wine and an ice cream sundae. There would be my own British Airways pajamas to change into, and a designer amenity kit. My coat was taken away from me, its place in my hand taken by a mimosa. There was even a strawberry stuck on the rim of the flute. I plopped down in my seat, giggled, and put my feet up.

I was about to take a gazillion pictures to text to Esme when a soft, rough voice interrupted me.

"Excuse me, love. Sorry to trouble ya, but is this your passport?" I turned to find a passport in front of my face, held out by a long, strong arm, that was attached to a man who smiled at me with crinkly blue eyes and two rows of white shark-like teeth. A man I recognized from my research on the internet, from Esme's story.

I snatched it out of his hand, then opened to the photo page and confirmed that the awful photograph in it was mine. I nodded.

"Yep. Thanks, Michael." His name was out of my mouth before I had a chance to take it back.

"Oh!" Michael looked surprised. "I'm sorry. Do we know each other, darling?"

I bristled at the team of endearment.

"No, but I believe we have a friend in common." I finished my mimosa in one gulp.

"Really? Who is it?" Michael looked pleased, probably because I wasn't a fangirl about to bug him for a selfie or an autograph.

"My best friend is Esme Grey. You know, the girl you took out on Valentine's Day?"

Michael smiled a little, a look of caution in his eyes. "Oh yeah, great girl!"

"Yeah. Truly. Though I can't for the life of me figure out why she'd let you fuck her on a pool table in a dive bar in Wicker Park."

Michael froze, his mouth open in shock.

I looked around the cabin, finding the flight attendant who'd hung up my coat. I held my empty glass up.

"Miss? Another mimosa, and maybe one for Mr. Fassbender here? He's gonna need it. We have a lot of catching up to do."

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to my real life BFF, on whom Ann is based.


End file.
